For the first time in months, El Aran ventured away from her oasis and out into the unforgiving heat of her home. The black mare’s head bobbed as she walked, and despite the relentless sun on her skinny back she seemed in a good mood: ears up, eyes bright and steady as she took in her surroundings. Many thoughts lingered in her head this morning, but none of them preoccupied her, and it wasn’t long before the mare picked up her nimble black hooves and eased into a trot.
By the time she reached the ocean, that perilous force of nature which was not to be trifled with, the sun had soaked deep into her black coat and left patches of sweat along her body. It was cooler here on the shore. El Aran didn’t stop until the water washed past her knees, and there she stood in the brisk wind with her eyes slitted against the salty spray, imagining she could smell the winter that affected the other islands. It had been a long time since she had left her Desert.
Perhaps it was time to let go of her dreams.
Her nightmares continued to plague her and this land had proven for the umpteenth time that only the hardiest of horses —her— was able to survive it for any great length of time. The seer was tired of being alone, tired of keeping her silent watch at the oasis, tired most of all of the panic and anxiety that ate at her whenever a new stallion decided to settle down. El Aran snorted, the noise lost in the grumbling of the ocean, and splashed her front hooves in the water. Her goal today was to think less and do more, and soon she had contented herself with trying to soak her body without actually rolling in the surf.
el aran
Seer of Aşk. |